


Meow

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Anal Sex, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Boys Kissing, Cats, Coach is crazy, Come Eating, Come Marking, Come Swallowing, Cooking, Deepthroating, Derek Hale With Cats, Dinner, Eavesdropping, Facials, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Foreskin Play, Hairy Derek Hale, House Cleaning, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Phone Calls & Telephones, Scent Kink, Scott is a Good Friend, Secrets, Sexual Frustration, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slow Burn, Stiles Stilinski's Scent, Uncut Derek Hale, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wine, hospitality, the cat is a matchmaker, these two really just need to do it already, uncut Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-05-27 20:39:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15032798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: Derek's cat ran off and found it's way into Stiles' apartment AGAIN. Stiles returns the cat, only to discover his neighbor is gorgeous, and very interested in cooking Stiles dinner to repay the favor.





	1. Pebbles the Shadchanit

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble from a prompt in the first chapter. Made into a longer story in the second.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's cat ran off and found it's way into Stiles' apartment AGAIN. Stiles returns the cat, only to discover his neighbor is gorgeous, and very interested in cooking Stiles dinner to repay the favor.

The bell echoes in apartment 3B as Stiles Stilinski stands at the threshold, cradling a tiny ginger cat. She is absolutely lovely, purring into him with all her might as he strokes her behind the ear. Her fur smells like corn chips and it’s all Stiles can do to not take her back to his place and pretend that he doesn’t know whose she is.  
When the door reveals his new neighbor, Stiles’ breath stops short in his throat. Probably the most beautiful man he has ever seen greets him.  
A raven-haired god with eyes the color of the Irish Sea grins back, a perfectly trimmed beard adding to his already superlative calling card. The brunette suddenly feels like he’s in high school again, a quick self-analysis leaving him ticking the boxes "awkward" and "turned on."  
  
“Hi,” he remarks, instantly criticizing himself for not saying something more interesting.  
“Is she yours?”  
Stilinski’s slim arms hold out the cat like a newborn.  
  
“Pebbles!” the man exclaims. The feline jumps in his very muscular embrace. Stiles gulps. The shirt the neighbor is filling out so well can barely contain his biceps.  
“Where did you find her?” the handsome fella asks. “I didn’t even realize she was missing. She likes to sleep in my closet and I figured that’s where she was when I came home and didn’t find her curled up on the sofa.”  
  
Caramel eyes can’t tear themselves from the man’s plump pink lips.  
“It seems your cat keeps breaking into my apartment via the windows. I don’t know how she does it, but this is the first time I’ve actually been able to catch her.”  
The mysterious neighbor kisses the cat on the nose and nuzzles her. “Pebbles, why have you been trespassing in this nice man’s house?”  
  
Stiles Stilinski melts inside. Is there anything sexier than this stud cuddling a kitten?  
“She also knows how to open fridges. She ate my dinner.”  
  
The dark-haired man frowns, leaving the door gaping as he steps back inside.  
“Really? I’m so sorry.” He releases the cat, the feline escaping to the bedroom.  
“Let me make it up to you. Can I cook you dinner?”

Stiles’ heart skips a beat. “That would be lovely…”  
  
The sable prince extends his hand. “Derek. My name’s Derek. Please, come in.”  
The brunette traipses inside, unsure of this sudden development. He shuts the door behind him with his back.  
The stranger’s hand is warm and inviting within his. Kind of like his home.  
“Like I said, it would be lovely, Derek. My name is Stiles.”


	2. Unexpected Dinner Guest and a Red Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has found Pebbles, Derek's cat. I pick up right where the drabble left off, at the closing of the apartment door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while to loop back to this one, but here it is! Hope you enjoy and that it was worth the wait. I still suck at summaries but please enjoy anyway!  
> I also included an homage to Coach which people will recognize if they have read my fic "Frenemy Can You Love Me?" :)

“Again, I apologize for Pebbles. I had no idea she was a runner.”  
Derek carefully ties an apron around his slim waist, every inch of the dark fabric hugging his statuesque physique.  Stiles watches as his dexterous fingers tie a perfect bow behind his back.  
Derek has beautiful hands. Long fingers. Manicured nails. He moves with the grace of a dancer.   
Stiles, if nothing else, has always possessed impressive attention to detail.  
  
The apron his host wears bears an Italian name. 12 Uve. Two bunches of grapes with musical notes as stems are stitched in burgundy thread, along with the winery’s name at the hem: _Al Paradiso di Frassina_.  
Stiles is curious, reminds himself to enquire about it later.  
The apron is flawlessly pressed, the creases of the front pocket in line with the center of Derek’s robust thighs. Stiles is momentarily in awe of this perfection. Not a hair is out of place, not a thread loose. Derek even has a cute way of pursing his lips when he’s thinking about the next thing to say.   
  
Stiles forgets to breathe. His new neighbor is so gorgeous he literally can’t remember to trigger basic functions. He looks down at himself and suddenly feels tremendously underdressed. And underhot.   
A bit under _everything_.  
Derek is an 11, and he’s a… 6? Okay, _maybe_ a 7?  
“What am I doing here?” he asks himself.  
  
“No problem about Pebbles,” Stiles manages short-winded, his lungs slowly inflating again. “To be honest, I had half a mind to keep her, she’s so sweet. But I knew she was coming from this apartment. It was either yours or Finstock’s, and he hates animals.”

Derek shakes his head as he walks over to the huge steel fridge and gingerly opens the double doors. Under the bright illumination of the cooler Derek looks even more stunning.  His skin is flawless, like ivory Carrara marble.  
“Finstock, is he 3C? I will never understand how someone can despise animals. People like that shouldn’t be trusted.”

Stiles is fixated on the man before him, watching every twitch on his face as Derek scrutinizes the contents of the shelves. The brunette mentally appeals to his personal sense of embarrassment, but then admits to himself he has none. Derek doesn’t seem to notice, so he continues to stare in appreciation.   
  
“Yeah, 3C. Opposite you. I’m 3A so that’s why I thought it’d be likely she came from your apartment. We share a wall and our terraces nearly touch. But let me tell you if you ever have the pleasure of meeting Bobby Finstock you’ll understand. The man doesn’t even like himself.”

Derek chuckles, one sculpted arm leaning against the open fridge doors. Derek pulls the sleeve up to his elbow, revealing just enough arm hair to be incredibly sexy. Identical to the dark growth peeking from above his v-neck.  
Stiles gulps.   
“What does he do? Is he an older man or something?” Different colored containers materialize on the counter, all labeled with ingredients and dates. Stiles inches over and peeks. Honestly the organization resembles that of a Michelin-star restaurant. Or of someone with obsessive-compulsive disorder.  
  
“No, he’s not elderly. Just a bitter lacrosse coach and econ teacher. I had him in high school. I think he drinks. He used to give out these pamphlets, too. I swear to you I was sure he was customizing each one, like printing them out in his office as needed. They had the most ridiculous titles, and they just happened to always have the same font and layout. I remember once my friend Scott had a crush on this girl but she was already in a relationship. Coach overheard us in the locker room and next thing we know, Scott finds a “Love Tri-angles Are One Angle Too Many” leaflet taped to his locker. Coach had even left a note.  
‘McCall- you deserve better than someone who can’t see your worth. Coach.’ I know he meant well, but I think we belly-laughed for 5 minutes straight, anyway.”  
  
Derek giggles. The breathy kind of giggle that makes you turn to see who it belongs to.  It’s contagious and wickedly alluring.  
“Wait, Scott McCall? The vet?” Derek is smirking.  
Stiles nods, interest piqued. “Uh-huh. He’s my best friend. Why?”  
The new neighbor grins knowingly. It’s something radiant and lights up his sea-like gaze like lightning during a storm.  
 “I’m the vet who joined his clinic last month.”  
  
An image of Derek in green scrubs that perfectly match his eyes is edging its way into Stiles’ mind, just like the erection in his pants inching towards his belly button.   
_Oh fuck. Get a grip Stilinski._  
“YOU’RE the new vet? Scott told me a new guy had started last month, but I was so busy I only met him for drinks once since, and we talked about other stuff. Oh my god, what a small world!”   
_Oh my god. I need to get a pet!_  
  
“It definitely is. So you’re the best friend Scott mentions occasionally. He’s just never called you by name so I didn’t make the connection. That’s awesome. Scott’s a great guy and a brilliant vet, I enjoy working with him.”   
Stiles suddenly wishes he had gone to vet school instead of studying classics.  
“He is. We’ve been friends our whole lives, and I was happy for him when he took over the clinic from Dr. Deaton. Deaton had been the vet in Beacon for a long time until he moved closer to his sister. She’d just lost her husband, and he wanted to be closer to his nephews.”  
  
Derek appears to share in Deaton’s sorrow. His expression momentarily ashes.  
“I’m sorry for my predecessor’s loss. I’ve experienced it, I know how difficult it is and how misplaced one can feel during bereavement. I hope his family can be helped by having him around. I suppose out of misfortune something good did come about. I got a fantastic new job where I can help this town’s furry and feathery babies, and… thanks to Pebbles I met my handsome neighbor who happens to be best friends with my boss.”  
  
Derek rivets his moss eyes on his guest. There’s something coy in his gaze and Stiles’ cheeks suddenly feel a thousand degrees. His palms are clammy. Can Derek tell he’s sweating?!  
“I must thank the Moirai as well then. Though they never interfere once in a while they get it right.”  
  
A dark eyebrow arches. Derek opens a drawer in his gorgeous, modern kitchen. The whole exterior is white glass. Stiles has never seen that before. Everything is so spotless it’s shining.  
“Greek mythology? Are you a history buff?”  
Stiles is feeling useless. A jenga of Tupperware towers next to Derek who is preparing to cut onions he’s carefully plucked from a purple bag in the drawer.  
  
“Can I help with something? It looks like you’ve got your hands full,” he asks. “And yes. More than a buff. I teach ancient civilizations though I’m currently on sabbatical. Writing a book on liturgical dialects deriving from Aramaic. Mainly Mandaic.”  
  
The dark-haired host hands Stiles a bottle opener and points to a door behind him. Meanwhile he picks his jaw up from the floor. “Pick a bottle of wine. The cellar is behind you. Mand, whatnow?”  
  
Stiles chuckles as slides the wine cellar door. He gasps. Probably 300 bottles are housed in the nook which is refrigerated in two compartments. And not just 4-dollar table wines. These bear Italian and French labels. Some as old as 15 years.  
“So you like wine?” Stiles saucers his eyes.  
“Just a little. I’m also a sommelier.”  
So maybe now Derek is a 12. “Of course you are. How the hell do I choose?”

There’s that giggle again. OH GOD.  
  
“Well, it depends on what we’re having. But if you have a particular dislike for a type of wine I’ll try to modify the menu.”  
“Derek, not to be plebeian here, but I’d probably drink mouthwash if you served it to me. I really don’t mind.”  
The raven-haired beauty’s gaze crinkles in endearment. “Do you have any dietary issues? Allergies?”  
“Nope. Not picky.”  
“Okay, so I was thinking of making ossobuco alla milanese, which means with saffron risotto. Definitely not a vegetarian meal. It’s quick prep but then the cooking will take about 90 minutes. If you don’t mind keeping me company in the meantime? Otherwise I can come get you when it’s ready, if you have other things to do. I realize you didn’t mean to stay for dinner when you brought Pebbles over.”  
  
_Who is he kidding? Who would rather sit in their apartment alone when the hottest man alive purposely makes slow food so you can spend time together?_  
“Are you joking? I’d love to stay,” Stiles replies perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Now tell me which bottle to open so we can have a toast.”  
  
-

Two hours pass. Stiles can tell without looking at his watch. Giuseppe Verdi’s “Falstaff” has just finished.  
One bottle of wine got cashed just waiting for the food to cook. Now they are down the better part of the second, witness the rose blooming in Derek’s cheeks. His eyes are just a touch glossy and Stiles is not unaware that their chairs have edged closer and closer together.  
Pebbles walks circles between their feet, begging for scraps. “None for you, Missy. No people food,” Derek scolds. His exchanges with his cat are about the cutest thing ever.  
  
Stiles has decided this is probably the best meal he’s had in his life. Derek moved masterfully in the kitchen. Every step of the preparation, from cutting the onions to flouring the meat, looked like art in motion. Ritualistic some would say. Two gorgeous hands moved in surgical precision with a respect for the ingredients bordering on divine.  
  
Stiles swirls the red wine in his glass and looks at it against the light like Derek taught him.

“So you do this, when the bottle has been opened I mean, and your taste buds haven’t yet been tainted by food, you can fully taste all its nuances. The swirl lets your wine open and breathe and then allowing it to coat your entire tongue allows all the taste buds to react to the wine. This is a naked tasting. Afterwards the perception differs because the food you eat will add or take away to its flavors.”  
  
Stiles isn’t really paying attention. His focus is on Derek’s little flaw in his bite, his wine-stained lips crimson and shiny. Ready… almost begging to be kissed.  
“Oh god I think I might be in love,” he admits to no one.  
  
Derek clears the plates, and Stiles helps by watching his sublime backside as he walks to the kitchen.  
Pebbles jumps into his lap and purrs.  
Derek looks in their direction and shakes his head. “Traitor. I just might let you keep her,” he jokes.  


Stiles rubs her belly, and she shamelessly rolls into it.  
“So we’ve talked about our childhoods and superficial things. I want to go back to what you told me. What’s this about.. Mad… What was it again?”  
“Mandaic. A dialect of Aramaic.”  
“So you know Aramaic?”  
Derek loads the dishwasher but his gaze darts between his guest and the appliance which is now nearly full.  
“This guy is hot,” Derek thinks to himself, unable to ignore the charming dimples and peachy skin of Stiles’ attractive face. Gorgeous redwood eyes canopied by the most luscious lashes he’s ever seen on a guy. Not that the rest of him isn’t attractive. Stiles is either naturally slim, or he does Pilates or yoga. Nothing about his body screams “I lift” but every muscle is perfectly toned.   
_Impressive._  
  
Stiles isn’t one to brag. He kind of regrets mentioning his job now, but it’s too late.  
“Yeah,” he sighs. “I started with classics. Latin and Ancient Greek. Then Aramaic and its dialects. Sumerian cuneiform script. Hebrew. And a smattering of ones you’ve probably never heard of.”  
“Hot and ridiculously intelligent,” Derek muses.  
  
“That’s fascinating. So you were always interested in past civilizations? How much do you feel they apply to today’s life?”  
Stiles kisses Pebble’s tiny wet nose, and she playfully makes biscuits on his chest.  
“I might be in love,” Derek decides.  
  
“Actually, a lot,” Stiles explains between furry cuddles. “For example, Duma(h) in Hebrew or Douma in Aramaic is the angel of silence and of the stillness of death. He was the tutelary angel of Egypt and prince of Hell. Dumah appears in Neil Gaiman’s ‘The Sandman’ , if you read DC Comics. He becomes a keeper of Hell. He also appears in video games and in the tv show _Supernatural._ And this is just an angel that barely anyone has heard of.  Folklore, mythology, whether recent or ancient, has bled into modern society in all forms of art and media.”  
  
Stiles feels self-conscious speaking so much. Maybe it’s the wine. Speaking of…  
“Hey, enough about me and my boring job. I noticed your apron earlier.” _I noticed more what the apron was wrapping, but that’s an aside._ “Is that from an Italian winery?”  
  
Returning to the table, Derek inserts the wine glasses between his middle and ring fingers and carries the bottle in his right. Just about a quarter still swishes in there.  
He gestures with his head for Stiles to follow him to the sofa. Stiles paces himself, making sure he lets Derek get there first. He’s not sure what the seating arrangement will be like and Pebbles is a good prop in case his host decides to sit at the far corner.  
  
“First of all,” to Stiles’ relief, (and excitement), Derek places himself right in the middle, forcing Stiles to choose a side but also ensuring they will touch, “I don’t think your job is boring. I’m absolutely in awe of your ability to know so many languages. I can barely speak Italian and Spanish. I mean it, Stiles. I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re very special.”  
  
A flush expands from Stiles’ tummy out to his extremities. He lowers himself and allows their knees to touch. As soon as he’s comfortable, he finds Pebbles a donut on his lap.  
“It’s just the wine,” he tells himself. Inside he knows better. The way Derek is looking at him right now, with almost a half-lidded longing, well it’s doing something to him.  
  
Stiles tries to divert attention from himself. “Thank you. Really. But I am dying to know where the love of wine and food was born. I mean I mostly survive on Mac and Cheese and cereal. Ramen if I’m feeling ethnic.”

Derek is beaming. “Well, I did a Masters and a research project with the University of Siena. I spent a year in Tuscany. Learned a little Italian, discovered what food and wine _could_ be. Traveled as much as I could there and in France. The apron is from a winery famous in Montalcino. The owner plays Mozart for his grapes. In conjunction with the university, which is how I discovered this, they monitored how his grapes grew respect to others neighboring. His grapes grow just fine, without the use of pesticides. I was too curious. I visited the place and stayed a night. Met the owner and chatted at length about his passion for wine and music. That was it for me. I returned to the States, got my sommelier diploma, and started cooking every day. As much farm to table as I could find, testing recipes but also making classic dishes like the one I just served you. I like to express myself through food, I suppose. Seeing someone satisfied with what my bare hands have prepared for them… it’s magical.”  
  
Stiles is mesmerized. He can feel the words he wants to say but they’re trapped behind his teeth. He’s incredulous. He may be reading signals wrong but after the long string of horrible Tinder dates he’s had, he can’t believe someone this unique and brilliant has moved in right next door.  
The dark and mysterious vet is equally smitten. Hypnotized by the soft curves of Stiles’ face and the slight cocky lift to his lips. Those inviting lips.  
  
Stiles suddenly feels parched. He samples the red nectar and an explosion of emotions overwhelms him.  After this touching description it’s as if he can taste Derek’s passion in what he’s consuming.  
  
“What we’ve been drinking is one of the wines from the Mozart vineyard. Gea,” Derek murmurs.  
  
Stiles holds it out, the light casting a dark burgundy glow onto his hand. Like a beacon of love and passion. He’s hypnotized and delirious. By the wine. The food. This incredible man.    
“Gea. Gaia. Goddess of the Earth.” Stiles’ affirmation is but a whisper.  
  
Neither have time to elaborate. Derek leans in, covering Stiles’ lips with his soft mouth. Stiles blindly replaces his glass on the coffee table as Pebbles leaps off his lap with a sharp  _meow,_ satisfied that she’s done her job matchmaking.  
  
Two warm and hungry bodies press urgently into one another. The brunette tests the gap and Derek allows him through downy lips.  
Derek whimpers and Stiles moans. Arms hold on to soft fabrics until Derek doesn’t guide Stiles down into the cushions of the sofa, his chestnut hair fanned out over the grey pillow.  
  
“Mmm,” Stiles hums into him, their tongues living extensions of the wine… red, moist, and sweet.  
Stiles walks his hand under Derek’s shirt and fingers the deep groove right above his buttocks.  
  
Derek pulls away with a groan, nipping on Stiles’ lower lip as he does so.  
“I really like you, Stiles. And I really want you. Like, I REALLY want you. But I don’t want this to be a one-night stand. If you feel the same, I’d like to do this right. Date you. Take it slow. I’ve never met anyone in my life like you and I don’t want to screw this up.”  
The two grating erections in their pants might disagree, but whatever blood is left in Stiles’ brain is telling him it’s the right thing to do. He shares the same sentiment.  
“Me too, Der. Me too. I don’t want this to be a hook up, either, especially since we live next door to each other and you work with my best friend. What I’m saying is, I want more, too. I want to date you though I have to say as a first meeting this one is going to be hard to top for me.”  
  
Derek grins, pecking Stiles’ pointy nose. “I’m glad. I’m really glad. And I think we know who we have to thank for this.”  
They let their heads drop to the left. A little red cat sits on the rug, watching them. Pebbles vocalizes.  
“You know if cats could talk she’d be saying you can thank me by giving me some of that leftover ossobuco.”  
Stiles breaks into laughter, the hiccupy movement of his tummy making Derek bounce above him.  
  
“I think you’re right. Guess I have to thank the stars that it was me who found her and not Finstock. Though I can’t really see you making out with my ex-Coach.”  
There’s a glimmer in Derek’s chartreuse eyes. “Hey you never know. Maybe he’s hot.”  
A forced shiver of disgust consumes the brunette. “Ugh god no. You’ll see when you meet him.”  
Derek fixes a few strands of Stiles’ hair and shrugs.  
“The guy definitely sounds interesting. I’m sure our paths will cross soon enough. Especially if Pebbles keeps getting out. I may have to lock her in but I would hate to squelch her adventurous spirit. Maybe I’ll just buy you a lock for your fridge, Stiles. That way you keep having an excuse to come over here. That way I can feed you both.”  
Stiles guffaws.  
“Hey, don’t I have a  good one already? I told you I'm an awful cook. And as for Finstock, he's a character for sure. Maybe once you meet he’ll give you a pamphlet, too.” Stiles grins widely.  
“Hopefully it won’t be ‘Ten Reasons Not to Date Your Next-Door Neighbor’.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Research was taken from Wikipedia and my personal knowledge of wines and cooking.  
> I have stayed at the "Mozart" winery and the wines are quite delightful. Here is the website if anyone wants to visit or just check out the owner's philosophy.  
> http://www.alparadisodifrassina.it/it/sito  
> The logo embroidered on Derek's apron is from this bottle, and Gea is one of their Rosso di Montalcino wines which I highly recommend if you find it and are eating ossobuco. : http://www.alparadisodifrassina.it/it/vini  
> Recipe for ossobuco (I make it more classical, "Milanese" without tomatoes). https://memoriediangelina.com/2009/11/21/ossobuco-and-risotto-alla-milanese/
> 
> Thanks as always for your patience and loyalty.


	3. Speaker Phone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Scott are having a private conversation and Derek overhears. The men realize they need to fix a huge problem in their relationship and their date that evening is the right time to do it.  
> Coach runs into Stiles in the lobby of their building and... Coach acts like Coach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient and following this story!

It’s been two weeks and “neighborly” relations are going well. As they promised themselves, Derek and Stiles are taking it slow. Maybe a bit too slow?

They haven’t had sex yet. Things got heated several times, but on each occasion Derek stopped before anything interesting could happen. It’s unbelievable, but so far they’ve resisted enough to have always kept their pants on. Literally and figuratively.

Pebbles seems to be getting more action, to be honest. The adorable tabby divides her time between warming Derek’s chest and curling up against Stiles’ stomach. Each in their respective apartments though. Except for one night when Stiles fell asleep on top of Derek while watching a movie, they’ve yet to spend the night together in the same bed.  
Pebbles is doing her best. The men allow her to come and go freely and when Derek volunteers night shifts at the 24-hour clinic across town, she sleeps with Stiles in his bed. But for whatever reason she hasn’t been able to lure Derek over to Stiles’ apartment. Yet.  
  
-

The sexual tension is palpable, needless to say. Neither has ever masturbated this much. Derek is afraid of seeming too eager and Stiles is afraid of passing for a sex maniac.  
The truth of the matter is that both desperately want to (and need to) have sex.

Scott’s advice seems to help and Stiles decides that this Friday evening is going to be “the night.” He and Derek have seen each other daily since the impromptu dinner, Stiles even visiting the clinic several times at lunch.  
(The curiosity of seeing Derek in scrubs was overwhelming and did NOT disappoint).  
Dr. Hale is fucking HOT.

“Basically it’s like we’ve been on like 20 dates already. I mean 12 dinners and probably 7 lunches.”

Scott is grinning into his phone, his slightly crooked jaw holding it in place against his shoulder. “Nine. You’ve come by the clinic NINE times in 14 days. And Sundays we’re closed, Stiles, so really it’s like 12. You like Derek a lot, don’t you?”

The aura of light oozing out of his best friend’s pores says it all. Scott can’t see this excited state of emotion that is Stiles Stilinski in this moment, but his smile has traveled across the line with his words.

“I think I might be in love with him.”

“Aww! You two are too cute. I’m seriously a little envious, Stiles. I can’t get a date to save my life and you find love right next door. Well if it’s any consolation, dude, he talks about you ALL THE TIME. He’s cooked. I keep replying to the things he says with _‘I know. He’s my best friend. I’ve known how great he was since kindergarten. If I were gay we’d be married by now.’_ Derek is all smiles and sometimes I catch him daydreaming. As his boss I must say your relationship is affecting his work performance so if you can kindly fuck already, I’d appreciate it.”

“Funny.” Stiles’ heart flutters. “Wait. He really talks about me? Like what does he say? How often does he bring me up?!”  
 An afterthought. “And aww… buddy. I’d totally marry you, too. We’d have the cutest babies together.”

Scott restocks the supply cabinet, the phone dangerously perched on the edge of the small shelf. “Hold on. I forgot my earphones so I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Scott- I hate being on speaker, Scott. SCOTT… “

“Need two hands, Stiles. Sorry.” He presses the button on the screen that suddenly fills the room with Stiles’ voice.  
“Fine. Is Derek there? What if he overhears?”  
  
The syringes are stored in order of needle size so Scott checks that off his list. Next the gauze.  
  
“He isn’t here. Had to run an errand. And to answer your question _middle school Mary_ , I catch him looking at you during lunch and he whispers to the other girls about you. Look, jokes aside, he really likes you. He talks about how smart you are and that you’re charming and hours seem to just pass when you’re together because you put him that much at ease.”

Stiles bites into the temple of his reading glasses. He’s blushing so much peachy circles rise to the middle of his cheeks. “But he never said I was hot?”  
Scott scoffs. “Dude, he’s not gonna tell me you’re hot. I’m his boss and your best friend. It’s obvious you’re hot. You’re the hottest girl in the lunchroom, Stiles. Okay? You’re the complete package and if he thinks anything otherwise, I’ll fire him.”  
Stiles smirks. He’s touched by Scott’s loyalty.  Besties since 1992.  
  
“I wish that were true back in middle school, I would have spent so much more time outdoors.”  
“Ha! Well between me and you not getting any we could have competed for who jerked off more.”  
Stiles grabs his stomach from laughter, bending slightly over his desk. He fiddles with his pen, rolling the cap along his lower lip.  
“Trust me, it was me. I was actually attracted by what I saw in the locker room every day.”  
Scott gives this one to Stiles. “Okay, I surrender. I can’t compete with wet, naked jocks.”  
  
Dr. McCall thinks he’s alone. Derek enters through the back door because he forgot his charger. He’s about to call out but then stops in his tracks when he hears Stiles’ voice booming from behind the door of the supply room.  
“He’s special, Scott. So special. I‘ve never met anyone like him. Intelligent. Cultured. Amazing cook and sommelier. It doesn’t seem real to me. I just can’t.”  
“Uh-huh. He _is_ all those things.”  
“And he’s hot as fuck.”  
Derek simpers.

Scott nods in agreement as he puts more gauze into the drawer. “Stiles, I’m straight and I have to agree with you here. Derek is probably the sexiest man alive. Like I said I’m not gay and I catch myself staring at him sometimes. You are both lucky.”

Stiles chuckles on the other end, completely unaware that Derek is listening in. The dark-haired vet is so red in the face it’d be endearing if anyone saw him.

“I know. I know. Dude I walk around with a permanent boner now.”

Derek stifles a gasp with two palms.

“So that’s why I’m worried. I mean I feel he’s hard too, you know, when we make out… to be honest it’s kind of impossible not to. Dude is packing some serious heat. But that might only be a physical reaction. You know the first night he said he wanted me but since then I haven’t felt the same vibe from him.”  
  
Scott shivers. “TMI STILES! TMI! I work with the guy come on… “  
  
"Don’t be so prude, Scottie. Gay men have dicks and we use them. Anyway, I wonder if he’s not into me enough? I mean it’s been two weeks and all I’ve done is cum in my pants. I’ve washed more underwear than clothes. I enjoy making out, don’t get me wrong, but middle school relationships progress sexually way quicker than this one. Not that we’d know haha!”  
“Yeah, seriously. So we’ve heard. Anyway, there is no way in hell he’s not jerking off to you in the shower, dude. I say make a move tonight. You’ve got another date, right? Make him understand it’s time. Get into your bedroom. You say you’re always at his place, right? Invite him over to yours for once. Get him out of his comfort zone. Plant the cat at yours if you have to. Pop open a can of tuna in the kitchen and little Pebbles will pack a bag and move in. Do something, Stiles. Don’t wait around for him to make the first move.”  
  
“Hmm, invite him over,” Stiles muses.  
Stiles’ apartment resembles that of an academic’s down to the stereotype of large, dusty books gathered in the corners. There was a piano in Stiles’ place once, which has now become a shelf for sheet music and even more… books. Not to mention the chaos in the kitchen.  
“I need to clean.”  
His best friend well knows of Stiles’ problems with order. He offers a simple suggestion.  
“Well, then clean. Change the sheets. Take a shower and get take out. Because for the love of god don’t cook. I want you to fuck him, not kill him.”  
“I can always count on my best friend to be kind…”  
“That’s what I’m here for, pal.”

The furrow forming on the young vet’s brow says it all. He realizes if they wait any longer Stiles might get the impression he’s not attracted and perhaps pull away. And Derek is attracted. _Very, very attracted._  
Derek decides that if Stiles is willing, they need to have sex **tonight**. And it is time he went over to Stiles’. His boyfriend is right.  
_Boyfriend_. They’ve never discussed that, but that’s pretty much what they are.  
  
Slipping back outside quietly, he races to his car. He’s got enough battery power to send Stiles a text.  
  
_Hey Stiles, hope you’re having a good day. About tonight, what if I came over to yours? Would you mind?_  
 _Let me know if you want me to bring something or we can just get delivery. Looking forward to it. ttyl._  
  
He needs to get home. Derek’s mind is everywhere but the clinic. It’s nearly 5, anyway. His fingers type quickly as he puts the key into the ignition.  
_Hey Scott. Listen up I got tied up here. Won’t make it back today. I’ll come in early tomorrow and open up if that’s okay. Thanks_  
  
He sends the second text and then his phone dies. He can’t well go back in to the clinic now and get his charger. Oh well.   
Derek puts the car in gear and mentally lists what he needs to do before his date.  
  
-  
  
Stiles turns the key in his post box, filling the crook of his elbow with mail. Sorting through the countless pieces of junk, he finds only one interesting bit. And it’s not the envelope offering him a free cruise.  
“I’m sure I won a free cruise. Yup.”  
A voice startles him from behind.  
  
“Stilinski!”  
It’s Coach.  
Stiles turns on his heels to find a grinning Bobby Finstock hovering behind him. He’s dressed in his usual polo shirt and tight pants. His dark hair is unkempt and Bobby nervously rakes his fingers through it.  
  
“Coach, howya doing?” Stiles doesn’t really care, but it’s the polite thing to say.  
Bobby’s eyes are a little red. Has he been hitting the hooch already? It’s not even 5!  
  
“Stilinski, I could be better. If I didn’t have to go in and deal with obnoxious teenagers every day, I’d be golden. I can’t wait to retire. These kids are gonna be the death of me. Make me almost miss you and McCall and that says it all.”  
“Coach, aren’t you like 60 or something? Isn’t retirement around the corner?” Stiles jokes.  
Bobby’s frown is more judgmental than the tone of his voice. “Stilinski I’m 45!”  
  
Stiles can’t stifle his sudden outburst of laughter. “I know Coach, I’m sorry. I’m just messing with you.”  
“You were always a smart-ass, Stilinski. I take back what I said about missing you.”  
They must be giving frowns away. “Aww Coach come on –“  
  
“Listen. No time for idle chatter there’s a martini with my name on it waiting in my wet bar. I just wanted to ask you about the new guy in 3B.”  
His eyes dart to the name on the post slot. “This D. Hale guy…”  
  
Stiles grins at the mention of Derek’s name. He's so gone. “What about him?”  
“What’s his deal? I mean he’s really quiet, which is great. I haven’t seen around much, though. Is he a weirdo or something?”  
  
_You mean weirder than you?_   “Not at all, Coach. He’s a vet. Works with Scott as it happens.”  
Bobby nods. “Uh-huh. Okay. I see.”  
Stiles blurts it out before he can stop himself. “And he’s my new boyfriend.”  
_Why did I say that?!_  
  
Coach crosses his arms and grins from ear to ear. He cracks his gum on his molars and winks.  
“Good for you, Stiles. Good for you. He’s a catch. A vet AND that good-looking. Mazel tov.”  
He pats Stiles on the shoulder and makes to walk away.  
  
“I’m not Jewish, Coach. I’m Polish.”  
Coach doesn’t bother turning around. “I don’t really care. Then whatever the Poles say to mean congrats.”  
“It’s gratulacje Coach.”  
“Bless you, Stilinski.”  
Stiles shakes his head. “I wasn’t sneezing Coach I ---”  
  
Finstock is out of earshot by then. “I don’t know why I bother…”  
Stiles’ pocket vibrates. He pulls out his phone and reads Derek’s text.  
“Well I’ll be damned…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late on everything. UBER shitty work weeks. I'll be taking advantage of the holidays to progress on all my wips. Thanks for reading and for your patience.


	4. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finally comes over to Stiles' apartment.  
> The men each have something they need to say but the timing is off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently away and only have my phone so forgive any errors. It's a huge pain to write on this tiny screen.

With just a bit of elbow grease, Stiles’ apartment transforms into something less resembling an abandoned library and more a space zoned for residential use. 

Dust all but disappears into a handful of cloths rumpled in a bin, and most of the books with a permanent residence in the corners of Stiles’ living room are stacked in temporary asylum in the hall closet. 

Not bad for only two hours of manic cleaning. 

Something which resembles an upright musical instrument also emerges from underneath the canopy of sheet music and unfinished manuscripts, now in safe sanctuary in a duffle bag beneath Stiles’ bed.

“This place was one huge fire hazard,” he says to himself. “One wrong spark it would have gone up like a Buddhist monk.”

Pebbles pops in to say hello, but turns up her tiny nose when she encounters the young historian on his knees, his forehead glistening in sweat as he scrubs down the bathroom with bleach. She scampers off with a low meow but not before rubbing her whiskers against the chair leg. 

“I’m doing this for your Dad!” he shouts after her. “You could grab a tiny broom and help!” 

Stupid cat and her lack of opposable thumbs, he thinks. 

Stiles is leaving nothing to chance. (Or as perfect as roughly 180 minutes of sanitizing a rather neglected flat can get him). One of two rooms left to tidy. 

The bedroom. Maybe the most significant considering his intention for the evening. 

He changes the linens and hides his “toys” in the bottom compartment of the padded bed frame. (It might be a little early to introduce Derek to certain items).

Two candles add to the faint hue coming from the desk lamp across the room. 

A quick appraisal. Perfect. 

No. Wait. 

Incense yes or incense no? Stiles sniffs the air. 

Incense definitely _yes_. 

Chasing an afterthought, Stiles slides open the top drawer of the nightstand. Condoms and lube are easily accessible. Two different sizes because if his impression of Derek’s abundance is correct... 

Fingers crossed tonight will be the night he’ll get a confirmation. 

Instead, if his love interest should reject him, he’s going to have the longest (and most romantic) self-love marathon since middle school. 

Stiles’ phone rings as he’s about to battle the kitchen. 

“Yo, Scott! What’s up, dude?”

“Not much. Just closing up. Derek took the afternoon off. Must be preparing for your special evening.”

Interesting. 

“Maybe. He texted me that he wanted to come over here. Isn’t that weird after what we talked about? So I’ve been cleaning for almost three hours. I’m on the last room. You wouldn’t recognize the place.”

Scott flips the closed sign before twisting the key. 

“Let’s see how long you can keep it that way.”

“Ha ha. Anyway I need two hands buddy so I’m gonna let you go.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.” 

Stiles deflates his chest. “You’re exhausting.”

Scott’s lips curl. “I know. That’s why you love me.”

“Yeah yeah... BYE.”

“Lemme know how it goes! Bye Stiles!”

After a thorough purging, even the fridge and the pantry might pass Derek’s inspection. 

Stiles plants another stick of the burning resin into a holder and wipes his brow with a turned-up sleeve.   
It’s exhausting being so neat! 

- 

When Derek rings the bell at 8:30 sharp, Stiles races over. He nearly hits the door with his face when he slips on his Persian rug. His shoulder bears the brunt of the impact. 

“Oww! Jesus!” 

The door opens like a lazy yawn and Stiles is only slightly red in the face from the sharp pain.

“Der-“ he wheezes. 

“Hey,” Derek flashes him a huge grin. “Everything okay? I heard a commotion.”

“Yup. Dandy.” _I_ _might_ _have dislocated my shoulder, but that’s a story for another day._

Stiles shifts his gaze to Derek’s hand. The other is hidden behind the screen of his back. 

“Up for Chinese?” 

Stiles grabs the bags which are being held in the air like weights. His mouth waters immediately at the aroma. 

“Excellent idea! But how much did you order?!”

“Just a sampling of classic favorites.”

Stiles steps aside and ushers him in with a tilt of the head. 

“Welcome to Chez Stilinski.” 

-

As soon as he’s crossed the threshold, Derek produces a bouquet of purple and blue flowers. 

“I got you these. I can’t believe it took me two weeks to step next door. Thank you for having me.”

A flush betrays the brunette. 

“Thank you, Der. They’re stunning. Please, mi casa su casa. I’ll grab a vase.” 

While Stiles fills the crystal flute, Derek follows the walls, moving from one area to the next as he explores the living room. His eyes hang on everything he sees. 

“Wow. Your place has the same floor plan, but it’s so different. I can definitely perceive your passion for history in the decor.” 

Derek fingers the small Middle Eastern objects and artifacts that line the bookshelves, turning a couple over with care. 

“They’re just things I picked up on my travels when I was doing my doctorate. Most of it is junk.”

Derek protests. “No, they’re beautiful. They really reflect your personality, Stiles.”

Compared to the sleek lines and minimalist design across the wall, Stiles’ home is much warmer, inviting. Soft nuances of earth tones bringing to mind the places Stiles has visited. 

The drapes burn tangerine orange like the Saharan Dunes at dusk. Eggshell white and beige are the theme colors for the entire room, much like the Arabian landscapes of their rural towns. 

The low furnishings with deep ethnic-patterned pillows and cushions invite Derek to sit down and sink into their downy softness. 

Derek believes this is a place where Stiles’ heart is at peace. His eyes darken a moment as he pushes a cloud from his mental sky,  his thumb outlining the contents of his front pocket.

Derek straightens the fabric of his shirt with nervous strokes. He opens his mouth to ask a question but thinks better of it. 

“Oh... a piano. I haven’t heard you play.”

Stiles glances over as he plates the food. 

“I haven’t had much time the past few months. But I can play a little.”

Derek’s green eyes pop. “Well you really are a Renaissance man. You’ll have to play something for me sometime.”

“Sure. I’m pretty fond of Chopin.”

Derek tilts his head. “Chopin? Okay, you play more than a little.”

A hint of palest rose rises in Stiles’ cheeks. 

“I may have done conservatory. But I hate talking about my achievements. Come on, Der. Let’s eat before it gets cold.” 

-

The countertop is lined with Chinese take-away containers. It’s a small city of square paper houses against a backdrop of taupe tile.    
Stiles closes the tops one by one, thinking that he’s set for the next couple days’ lunches. Derek ordered way too much food and there’s plenty of leftovers. 

“Der, do you want any of this for tomorrow?”  
Derek passes the cloth over the dish with slow circular motions as he stares off into space. He handles it with such delicacy one would think it were the finest china. (If IKEA had the finest). Even a simple task becomes graceful when he does it.

The handsome vet glances at Stiles. 

“Hmm. What?”

“Der, I said do you want some of this?”  
“Oh. No babe. Thanks. I made lunches for the entire week. I’m kind of on a nutritional plan.”

_Babe._ Stiles secretly loves that. Derek’s been using it and “baby” for a couple days now. He just dropped it and waited. When Stiles averted his gaze and didn’t call him on it, it stuck.   
“No problem. I won’t have any trouble polishing this off.”   
Stiles sticks the last box into the fridge. 

Derek stirs. “Hey Stiles... I need to talk to you about something.”

Stiles is about to reply when the doorbell rings. 

The men exchange shrugs. 

“Are you expecting company?” Derek asks.   
“Nope. I’ll see who it is.”   
When the door opens, Stiles finds Bobby Finstock standing at the threshold, one arm outstretched.   
“Coach? What can I do for you?” 

Bobby’s cheeks hurt from grinning. 

“Stiles. Sorry to bother you on your date… ”  
_How did Coach know he was on a date?_   

“But I made you this.” Balanced on Coach’s left palm is an apple pie. Bobby indicates the pie with wide blue eyes, darting back up to Stiles’.  
“It’s an apple pie, Stiles. Freshly baked this afternoon. I thought you and your boyfriend might enjoy it.”  
“I can see it’s a pie.” Stiles’ eyebrow asks the question before he utters it. “Coach, you BAKE?!”  
The pie tin nudges Stiles’ chest.   
“Yes I bake, Stilinski. Don’t be so surprised. I find it relaxing. Now take Coach’s pie and introduce me to your friend.”  
Derek has dried his hands on the now swinging towel and meets Stiles at the door. His powerful physique shadows most of the space. When he steps into the light Coach gasps.   
Derek reaches for the pie. Bobby, who is now ogling the dark-haired man before him, releases it. 

Stiles wants to giggle but holds it in with a plastered smirk. He’s never seen Coach so speechless. 

“Hello. I’m Derek Hale. Stiles’…  _boyfriend._ 3B.”  
_Boyfriend!!_   Stiles’ excitement is a billboard on his face.   
“Yes, Derek is my  _boyfriend._  Derek, this was my Coach in high school. Bobby Finstock.”  
Bobby borrows Derek’s free hand for about a minute, mouth ajar and eyes blown. 

“Hello Bobby. I mean, MY name is Bobby. Stiles’ Coach. Well, I was. I mean, I’m still a Coach, but…”

Stiles leans against the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest. He’s sucked in both his lips to keep himself from laughing. Coach continues to trip over his words. 

“Lovely to meet you, Coach Finstock.” A side-glance to Stiles to indicate mercy.  

“Thank you so much for this thoughtful gesture. Would you care to come in and have a piece with us?”  
From behind shut eyes Stiles is silently cursing Derek.

“Please say no, please say no…” Stiles begs. 

The enthusiasm is not lacking but thankfully, Bobby declines.   
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got plans. Anyway, you don’t need an old man like me around. I just wanted to bring by dessert. I’m very happy to meet you, Derek. Oh... Stilinski. Before I forget. I accidentally got a piece of your mail. Here.”

A white envelope covers Stiles’ palm.

“Who do you know in the Sultanate of Oman?”

Stiles swallows hard, pushing Derek inside with his body, the darker man waving goodbye.   
“Just a friend.”

“Nice to meet you, Coach,” Derek says from within.   
The gap closes slowly and soon only Stiles’ face is visible.   
“Thanks Coach. Appreciate it. You have a good evening.”   
Bobby smirks. “Okay Stiles. No need to act weird. And good for you.” Bobby drops his voice. “Good for you. Don’t screw this up.”  
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Coach. Have a good one!”

The last part gets muffled by the door closing in Coach’s face. Stiles pulls the chain and locks the door. The letter is folded into his back pocket.   
He points backwards. “What the hell was THAT?!”

Derek showcases the pie as if it were a trophy.   
“He’s sweet. He brought baked goods.”   
“I know… I just… Coach is Coach. I guess he wanted to meet you.”  
Derek reaches for Stiles’ hand and draws him near. “Well,  _boyfriend,_ I’m glad he came over. Now him staring at me when I get my mail won’t be so awkward.”

Derek wraps his arms around Stiles and presses their bodies together.   
There’s a fresh bloom to Stiles’ face when he feels Derek’s erection.   
“Yeah, he does that. He seemed rather taken with you,  _Bobby.”_ Stiles’ voice trembles. He gulps down the desire building inside him. 

They both chuckle. “Yeah, I noticed that. I have that effect on people, make them forget their names.”  
It’s true. Definitely true. Looking into those chartreuse eyes Stiles has nearly forgotten his.   
“And you’re also modest.”  
“And I’m also modest,” Derek replies, leaning in for a kiss. 

When they break, mouths slick, Derek rakes his fingers through his love’s chestnut hair. 

“So what’s this about Oman?” 

Stiles bites into his lip, exhaling. “It’s not important right now.”

Derek nods. “Okay. We can talk about it later.”

Stiles laces his fingers with Derek’s and leads him towards the hallway. 

“Can I show you the rest of the house?”

“Sure thing,” Derek breathes. “I’m not going to lie Stiles, I'm very curious to see your bedroom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to give this one two more chapters as I've got a couple ideas for where I'd like to take this.  
> I was about to continue with smut but it was getting too long so I swear the next chapter they finally do it!  
> Thanks for sticking around. Pebbles is back next chapter as well.


	5. Let's Put the X in Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek falls into bed with Stiles.  
> Later they talk and something very unexpected happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still suck at summaries. Enjoy the smut my lovelies. Sorry this took so long but I'm as distracted as a squirrel on crack and constantly also battling the need to write new things.

They’ve talked enough. It’s a close call as to who makes the first move. Stiles pulls Derek directly into the bedroom by tugging on his fingers, but as soon as they’re inside, it’s Derek who, with a soft sigh, settles his eager mouth on Stiles’.   
Stiles is helpless beneath his demanding muscle.  
Fuck, he thinks. _I’ll die right here. This is my sweet death, the taste of Derek Hale on my lips._  
  
An electric touch sets him off and blood pounds from Stiles’ brain down to his dick, making his knees tremble. He doesn’t realize he’s falling backwards until Derek’s body is draped on him like a warm blanket, guiding him to the soft cover.   
“Stiles, I want you so badly,” he whispers against his lover’s plump pout.   
“Take me, Derek.  _Please_ take me,” Stiles winds his hand into the man’s dark tresses, begging to be kissed.    
Derek nods, sucking on Stiles’ lower lip before dipping his head.  
  _It’s happening!_  
  
Stiles takes a deep breath, punctuated with several, even gasps in time to Derek’s now flickering tongue. Liquid fire over his jaw and neck, he nips when he reaches the clavicle. Derek’s beard tickles him, sending a tingle down his extremities.  
  
“Fuck Der-“  
Stiles is throbbing, the stretch on his pants unbearable.   
  
Derek, in his own right, is in sensory overload.  _Everything is so soft up here and so hard down there_. It’s so silky and inviting, his lover’s mouth. His sex rutting into his.   
  
Warm emotion overcomes him. “Stiles, baby… “ he sibilates.   
Their pulses beat in hard spasms.   
“Need to feel you,” Stiles whimpers back, fisting into his shirt.   
  
Maybe it’s the exotic aroma of incense in the air coupled with whatever spicy aftershave Stiles uses, but Derek’s drunk on his skin’s scent and sweet taste.   
Cinnamon-spiced cream. Stiles Spice. Could be a new Starbucks flavor.   
Derek wants to drown in it.   
  
Hands move with a desperate need. Stiles draws an invisible pattern on Derek’s lower back.   
It’s been so long,  _so fucking long_! Stiles screams in his head between shivers that he just can't believe it. Except for a couple blowjobs on those awful internet dates, he hasn’t had real sex in ages. Nothing this intimate, this _visceral._  
  
It hasn’t been easy on Stiles. His last serious relationship was over 7 months ago. He thought things were progressing with Tom, Stiles was even toying with the idea of them moving in together. Then the lawyer got cold feet. Decided he needed to move on.   
“I don’t think there’s a future for us, Stiles,” he admitted before stepping out of his life for good.   
Stiles blamed himself. He was left anguished and jaded. Two years of investing emotionally and physically was for naught.  
That’s when he took the sabbatical. The next step was to look for other outlets to dull the pain funneling into his heart.  
   
Meeting Derek changed all that. It was the last thing he expected and the best disruption in his life.   
  
His lover looks at him now with eyes that could kindle wet leaves. _Tom never looked at me like that._  
Stiles’s brain fizzles. He grabs at the fabric, making him break their lip lock long enough to pull the shirt over Derek’s head.  
Stiles moistens his lips when Derek’s left bare-chested.   
  
“Now you,” the vet whispers.   
Derek moves his hand from Stiles’ throat, where he’d been caressing the rush of pink.  
Catching his wrists, his velvety touch clamps them above his head while with his free hand Derek tugs Stiles’ sweater off.   
  
“Oh god,” the chestnut-haired beauty murmurs. He bucks into him, body arching from the hips as the jumper passes over his head.  
He’s cooking in his clothes.  
“Take it all off,” Stiles breathes, eyes half-lidded. Derek nearly growls in reply.   
  
Perhaps they lack dancer’s grace, but after only a few awkward shifts on the mattress, two pairs of garments lie crumpled on the floor. Underwear follows.  
  
The men take a moment, staring wordlessly at each other now that they’re finally naked.  
Each thinks the other is magnificent.  
Derek kneels above him, studying his every curve and angle.  _You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, Stiles._  
Stiles isn’t as hairy as Derek. He’s got lighter growth everywhere, especially his chest. A dark brown treasure trail guides Derek’s gaze to his swollen cock: honey-colored against his paler skin. Smoother than expected and uncut.  
Stiles’ isn’t enormous, but Jesus does Derek think it’s  _perfect_.   
  
The younger man is in awe. He’s seen Derek shirtless a few times, and fuck if his unwaxed chest isn’t sexy as hell. Its coarse raven hairs shadow his pale skin so perfectly, right to his nipples that Stiles has sucked a couple times, making Derek cum in his pants. (And Stiles wasn’t far behind).  
How is it they haven’t sexed yet? Stiles wonders.  
  
It’s what’s _south_ of the border that’s got his mouth watering.   
Nestled in a black bush of dense pubic hair, flush against his washboard belly, is one of the most exemplary dicks Stiles has ever seen. He may have come upon something this gorgeous only in porn. (And boy did that ever create unrealistic expectations!)   
It’s definitely of a two-handed girth. At least two inches longer than Stiles’. What gets Stiles seeping pre-cum is the small circle of deep pink flesh glistening from around his dark foreskin.   
  
Stiles doesn’t ask permission. He can’t help himself. He jerks up to a sitting position and Derek’s member slowly disappears. 

Musk. Salt. The glide of the veiny manhood hot and rigid against the groove of his tongue. Stiles might have tears in his eyes from joy and arousal.  
He pushes it in, sucking _hard_.   
“Oh GOD Stiles!”   
Clinging to the bedframe for support, Derek twitches as Stiles’ hot mouth envelopes his shaft.  
It’s so slick and warm in there, his slit toyed with using tiny nudges. Stiles’ tongue runs circles under the extra skin covering his glans.   
“Ugh fuck… “  
The cock head is a cap about to plug his throat.   
“Oh Jesus, Stiles… “  
  
“Mmm,” Stiles hums, unhinging his jaw to make room for his thickness. After traveling up and down the length in slow swirls, Stiles’ palms trace back to Derek’s ass, following its curves.  
He presses the thick rod deeper and deeper into his throat.   
“Gah, ghe,” he gurgles. Derek glances down to Stiles’ whiskey-eyes, teary and blazing a sensuous flame. He holds him there, head raised and eyes fluttering. He could blow his load and it would be the hottest thing ever. But he wants to be inside Stiles more.  
“Baby,” he begs, the pressure of his hands on Stiles’ head decreasing. “You‘ll make me cum and I” he hiccups… “I need- “  
  
Grinning around the stiffness, Stiles slides off. His coral lips puffy from effort are coated in bubbly saliva.  
“Jesus you look so sexy,” Derek pants.   
Stiles smirks, his own pulsating sex dangerously on the verge of explosion.  
“That was incredible. I really want to taste you, Der. But first… “  
  
His hand juts over the edge of the bed and pulls open the drawer. Lube and an Extra-Large condom land at Derek’s knees.   
“I think that’s the right size?” he bites playfully into his lower lip.   
Derek chuckles. “Yes. Yes it is.”

Derek rolls it on while watching Stiles lie back seductively. Legs fall willingly apart to receive him.   
“I don’t need prepping, Der. I’ve been prepping for this for two weeks.”  
A desperate gasp clips the silence. “Jesus Stiles… “  
  
Derek leans over the lithe body, licking a stripe up Stiles’ beautiful dick to the top of his stomach.   
It jerks under the touch.   
“Der, please… I’m already close.” His chest inflates in rapid breaths.   
“I’ll stop teasing now,” Derek grins.   
  
Goosebumps clothe Stiles’ bare skin when he feels the full stretch of his lover’s cock penetrate.   
“Oh fuck yeah!” Stiles hisses, grimacing.  
“Too much?” Derek tenses.   
Stiles wrinkles his nose and wags his head. “No Der. _Give me all of it_. I want you so fucking bad.”  
There’s an ache, a longing to his tone.   
  
Sinking his body into Stiles’ instantly, the hard planes of his muscles enfolding him, Derek arrives to the hilt.   
“Oh Stiles, oh god…”  
“Move Der.  _Please. Need you._ ”  
Planting palms flat against the mattress, he exerts full strength. Derek’s muscles flex with the first thrusts, his arms and shoulders straining.   
After that it’s all a blur. Stiles wraps his legs around Derek, angling for a deeper fill.    
He lunges into him with strong impelling strokes.   
It’s bliss.   
  
“Yeah, fuck fuck yeah,” Stiles cries, his nails digging into the tender flesh of Derek’s neck as his other hand strokes his prick.   
“Stiles, I… Jesus…” Derek feels his breath catching in his throat, the shakiness to his voice increasing.   
  
It’s heat, clench. They continue to move as one, bodies cleaved.   
  
Time seems to stop. Derek’s so near to coming his suddenly shudders. “Stiles, I’m… close.”   
Stiles’ vision is blurry, skin still prickled with desire.    
“So I am, Der. Come on me. On my stomach, my face. Let’s come together.”   
  
And there’s that visual. If Stiles doesn’t shut up Derek won’t even pull out in time.   
  
It’s emptiness a moment later, a disappointed sigh escaping Stiles. His hole is bruised and needy but there’ll be plenty of time to do this again. Right now he wants to watch this enormous cock pump cum all over him.   
Derek bends, his massive member in hand, jerking himself over Stiles’ bellybutton while he palms his large balls.   
“Like that, baby… look at me.”   
Derek does, barely able to keep them open.   
“Oh Stiles…here it comes.”  
Stiles clings to Derek, whose knees threaten to give way. His right hand has him heading towards his own break.  
  
“FUCK!”   
“Yes, Jesus… YES!”  
There’s jizz all over. Derek’s release fountains out, even hitting Stiles on the chin. A ring of white liquid covers his foreskin.   
  
“Baby,” Derek huffs, “fuck that was intense… “  
Stiles’ ejac pools right below his sternum. Derek sucks it from his chest, passing some to Stiles when he comes up for a kiss. Stiles draws him close, molding himself to its sleekness.   
“That was SO hot,” Stiles says between sloppy kisses. Their fluids mix, each tasting the other.   
“I know. Honestly I was so turned on I almost- “  
  
A meow interrupts them. Pebbles is watching from the hallway.   
“Pebbles! You little perv!” Stiles exclaims.  
Derek falls back, laughing. “I guess Pebbles likes to watch.”  
  
Stiles sits up, addressing her sweetly. “Happy now, kitty? You’ve finally got your Dad into my bed.”   
Pebbles tilts her head and yawns before pattering into the living room.   
“That was priceless.”   
“I guess we bored her,” Stiles chuckles.   
Derek lifts his chin, lips brushing. “I know one person who WASN’T bored. Not by a long shot.”   
A light, questing kiss makes the men moan.  
  
“Okay, okay… “ Stiles expires. “Gimme a minute, otherwise it’s gonna get hot in here again.”  
“Won’t hear me complaining.”  
“Let me get us some washcloths, Casanova.”  
Derek lies down, the back of his hand on his perspired forehead. Stiles comes back with two small towels and a grin on his face. “I won’t tire of seeing that naked glory in my bed. Not gonna lie.”  
Derek colors fiercely.   
  
“Hey Der, a curiosity…”  
Stiles wipes Derek’s groin with gentle pats. “Why did you name her Pebbles?”  
“You don’t have to do this for me, baby.” He places his palm over Stiles' hand, now wiping his stomach.   
Drawing in a slow, steady smile, Stiles kisses the top of Derek’s tiny nose. “I know. But I want to, okay? The cat?”  
  
The earth suddenly falls away for Derek. He’s completely consumed with love.  
“Well, she was brought to my old clinic stuck in a Fruity Pebbles box. She’s ginger, reminded me of Pebbles from the Flintstones.”   
“Now _that_ is adorable. This kitty is getting cuter by the second.”   
“She’s a great little matchmaker, huh?” Derek asks.  
“Yup. She’s got a lifetime of treats from me for this.”  
  
Derek’s ears perk up and he freezes. “A lifetime?”  
Panic riots inside Stiles. “I didn’t mean… It’s just an expression…”  
  
Derek stops him with a raised hand. He rolls over and reaches for his pants.   
  
-  
  
“Jesus did I scare you off?! Are you leaving?!” Stiles' voice is faint, almost broken.    
Derek bows back, shaking his head. “Stiles… are you crazy? Of course I’m not leaving. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something, and I didn’t get a chance earlier.”  
He pulls a rather flat box from his front pocket, green eyes sparkling.   
“Come here, sit closer.” Derek pats the place next to him.  
  
Stiles sits, folding his legs under him.  
“What’s in the box, Derek?” His heart is pounding.  _Is asking me to… ?_  
“I’m not proposing to you… yet. But it is a proposal, of sorts.”  
Yet, Stiles hears. He takes the box being handed to him. As he lifts the top, his mind suddenly jets to the letter in his pocket.   
He blinks. Inside, there are two keys.   
Stiles gasps. “Is this??!”  
  
Derek takes his hand. “Stiles, the past two weeks have been insane. I know. But I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. I can’t stop grinning or laughing. I think about you all day long and dream of you at night. You’re so special, and you make me happy. Happier than I’ve been in a long time. I don’t want to lose this. Lose you. I’ve already… lost so much.” His chartreuse eyes storm over for a brief second.  
  
Stiles’ heart is swelling, he can see a dawn on the horizon and it’s bright. Dammit, it’s finally bright!  
“Der, you won’t lose me, I mean- ”   
“Stiles. One of those keys is to my apartment. You can come and go as you please. Consider it your home. But what I’m really hoping you’ll say yes to is the other key.”   
  
Stiles' brow furrows in confusion. “What’s this one for?”  
  
Derek clears his throat. His face is lit up in excitement.  
“The top-floor apartment. It’s free. Just been remodeled. It’s a three bedroom, two bath. Huge master. The two spare rooms, I already thought… “  
  
Stiles trembles. Derek has unlocked his heart and soul.  
  
“You could have a library in one, “ Derek continues. “A place to put your books and manuscripts. The other one could be an office if you don’t want the clutter, otherwise we could do something with it that both of us would like. I don’t have many things, but there’s enough space for all of yours. Even the piano.”  
  
Stiles is too shocked, mouth opening and closing but only air coming out.  
“Der, I don’t know what to say. You got this place before even sleeping with me?! I mean what would have happened if you didn’t like… “  
  
Derek reaches out, cupping Stiles’ dimpled cheek.  
“It’s not about sex to me, Stiles. I mean sure if it had gone _terribly_   you and I would have had a long talk. But I’m in love with you, Stiles. I know I can’t explain this after just two weeks, but I am. I don’t have any doubts. I want to live with you. Build a future together. Think about it, why are we paying to stay in two places?”  
  
Stiles’ mouth goes slack. He wants to. He knows he wants to, and he’s sure he’s in love with Derek. Suddenly the future is there, for the taking. But… the letter… the goddamn letter.   
  
Stiles babbles. “I can’t afford that place, Der. Not even by a long shot.”  
Derek reassures him with a tilt of the head.  
“It’s not a problem, Stiles. I’ve already paid for 75% of it. I have … family money. We invest in real estate. Your part would barely be 400 a month. Much less than this place.”  
“I can’t ask you to do that. I mean… “  
Derek shakes his head. “It’s done, baby. If you don’t want it, I’ll just rent it to some family. But I’d love that place to be _our family’s_ one day. I know it’s all so sudden but please think about it. I realize you're very comfortable here, but I'd be glad  
to let you decorate. Make it yours. Ours. But above all I want you to be happy.”  
  
Stiles’ head is spinning. He stares into Derek’s hopeful eyes and smiles weakly.  
His brain is clouded. While he envisions himself and Derek in their new home, beginning a life together, the thought of the envelope creeps in.  
It’s thick. Stiles knows what that means.  
He has to tell Derek, decide as a couple what he's going to do about it.   
  
The momentary tension is broken when Pebbles makes a noise. She's returned to the bedroom. Ninja cat!   
"Der, why is Pebbles sitting there, meowing mournfully at the mirror?"  
"She does that sometimes. Either she's having whatever passes for a cat's existential crisis or she's sad because she cannot free her twin from the mirror world."  
  
Maybe she's sad for me, Stiles thinks. Cats do feel human anxiety after all.   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the Kiss song of the same name.  
> The cat/mirror bit is a tumblr prompt.   
>  Thanks for your patience and loyalty!!


	6. The Big Event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The answer to the question: What happened to Derek and Stiles?

“Are you nervous?” Scott adjusts Stiles’ bowtie with nimble fingers.   
“A little.”  
“Are you afraid he won’t show?”   
A vague itch spreads on his nose, and Stiles reaches up to scratch it.  
“No. No way. He’ll be here,” he breathes with a long sigh.  
“Sure.”  
“You don’t sound so sure, Scott. Why? Well, maybe NOW I’m afraid!”  
_He better show if he knows what’s good for him.  
_ “Stiles… relax.”  
  
Straightening his tuxedo jacket for him, Scott steps aside revealing the mirror. Two warm hands  
grip Stiles’ broad shoulders from behind. He studies himself.   
“You look very handsome, Stiles.”  
Stiles’ grin returns, his cheeks dimpling. “Thanks, Scott. And thanks for being here. Calms the nerves.”   
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Such an important milestone! What kind of best friend would I be?”  
  
Patting his pocket, Scott spots the room key on the table. “The car is going to be here any minute, Stiles. We better get going.”  
“Dad’s going straight there, right?”  
Scott’s dark head nods. “Yup. Even Coach said he’s coming. Got in last night.”   
“That’s already quite the audience. Okay...”  
One last scrutinizing glance, and they make a motion to leave.  
“Here goes everything,” says Stiles.  
  
-  
  
The murmur of voices in the ballroom and a string quartet in the corner help to drown out Stiles’ thundering heart. He isn’t truly agitated until he sees how many people showed.  
Scott notices Stiles’ pained expression and squeezes his arm gently.  
  
“You okay, Stiles?”  
“Yeah. I don’t know half these people, but hey…no worries. Is Derek here? I think I left my phone at the hotel so maybe he texted you, too...”  
Scott pulls his phone out. “I think he just got in.”  
There’s a group text message in fact.    **I’m almost there guys.**  
Stiles sneaks a peek.  
“He’s on his way, Stiles. Don’t worry, he’ll be here. He’d never bail.”  
  
A woman with an updo and a clutch purse that probably costs more than Stiles’ entire outfit approaches.  
“Congratulations Stiles,” she air kisses him. Stiles has no clue who she is.  
“Thank you. Thank you very much.”  
“I haven’t seen your handsome fella yet, is he around?” There’s an annoying lilt to her voice. It’s making Stiles’ skin crawl.  
“I’m sorry do I know you? How do you know Derek?”  
  
Before she can answer, Noah Stilinski and Coach Finstock weave their way through the people peppered all over the room. Scott body blocks Stiles and the woman disappears behind a server carrying champagne glasses. She walks away murmuring something about “rudeness.”  
Coach grabs two flutes before the man is swallowed up by the thirsty crowd.  
  
“Dad!” Stiles screams, running into his father's open arms.  
Noah’s face lights up as soon as he spots Stiles. He engulfs him in a tight embrace.  
Stiles inhales deeply and hugs him even tighter.  
  
“Dad, you been working out?” He pats his bicep and both men chuckle.  
“Maybe a little. Anyway…”  
Noah squares his shoulders and pulls on his lapels. He cleans up well, his tuxedo tailored perfectly to his physique.  
“You look so handsome, son! I’m so happy, so proud of you. I only wish your mother could be here…”  
A grit coats his voice. He’s having difficulty keeping his emotions in check. They look at each other and smile in earnest. Light green eyes moisten over.   
“Thanks Dad. And she is. She’s looking down on us. I know it.”  
  
A moment of melancholy grips Stiles and his throat closes up. Now is the perfect time for comic relief, otherwise he’ll never get through the evening.  
“Um, hi Coach.” Stiles points to Bobby who is nursing two drinks. “Getting an early start?”  
Perhaps he’s picking up on the mood, because Bobby suddenly tears up. His watery bluebell eyes blink back tears. Stiles’ gaze steadily holds his attention.  
“McCall… hold these.”  
Scott finds himself with two glasses shoved into his hands, jaw slightly slack from shock.  
  
Coach opens his mouth and closes it. Grabs onto Stiles, who with an eyebrow cocked, smirks.  
“Coach, you okay?”  
_Has he been hitting the sauce already?  
_ “Stilinski… I mean, _Stiles…_ ”  
Stiles?! Coach _must_ be emotional, he thinks.  
Scott and Noah look at each other, Scott shrugging.  
  
Coach wipes a tear from his eye with the back of his hand and sniffles.  
“Look, Stiles, I’m not an emotional guy usually. It’s just… I’m so proud of you. You _and_ McCall.”  
A backwards glance to Scott makes the young doctor blush.  
“Thanks Coach, I –“  
“Lemme finish, Stilinski. _Stiles_. I’ve been a teacher for longer than I care to remember. And a good part of my students are total losers. But I had high hopes for you and McCall, you were an amazing pair. Now McCall’s a doctor and… well, you’re a doctor of sorts. And so successful. And I got to watch you and Derek flourish… and now this! Coach is just so happy for you. If anyone deserves happiness and success, it’s you and McCall. Coach couldn’t be more over the moon.”  
  
Leave it to Bobby to talk about himself in the third person. He’s rewarded with a long, slow grin as Stiles leans in for a bro-hug.  
Scott walks over, dark eyes crinkled. An infectious smile dazzles against his olive skin.  
“Thanks Coach.” He hands him the glasses back.  
“Yeah, thank you, Coach,” Stiles agrees.  
Bobby nods, downing the contents of one drink. “McCall, maybe one day you’ll find your Derek, too. You never know.”  
Scott shakes his head, forlorn. “Way to ruin a compliment, Coach. Way to ruin a compliment.”  
  
Stiles bursts into a belly laugh. Jesus it’s like old times and for a moment he forgets where he is. Oh dammit!  
He consults his watch. “Shoot, it’s almost time. Dad, Coach… you’re at the table up at the front. There are name cards just in case. Scott, any word on Der?”  
  
Okay, if he wasn’t nervous before he is now. His best friend checks his phone, but at the end there’s no need. A second later an absolutely stunning Derek Hale enters the ballroom and pretty much steals EVERYONE’S thunder. Even Scott’s mouth drops open.  
  
“Oh holy god,” Stiles whispers.  
The Dolce  & Gabbana dinner suit Derek is wearing is painted on. His beard perfectly groomed... and if looking absolutely delicious wasn’t enough, there’s a sparkle to his chartreuse eyes that adds a certain playfulness.  
“Der!”   
They crash into each other as if they haven’t seen one other in months. It’s only been a week.  
Scott looks at the men and beams. God these two are just the perfect couple.  
  
A large hand cradles the back of Stiles’ head as Derek leans down to give him a gentle kiss on the lips.  
“There’s more where that came from, baby. I missed you so much. I’m sorry it took so long to get here. There was so much traffic getting outside L.A.”  
A small twitch to his lip, and Stiles is grinning. “Hey… you made it on time. I knew you would. I just wish the girls could be here.”  
Clearing his throat, Derek’s firm mouth curls into a disarming smile. “I know. But it’ll only be for a few days.“  
  
A tap on the shoulder makes Stiles turn on his heel.  
“We’re ready, Stiles.” An older man with dark glasses and kind eyes points to the front of the room.   
Breath hitching a little, Stiles reaches with a trembling hand. He takes Derek by his and they all make their way forward.  
“Here goes everything,” he mutters for the second time tonight.  
  
-

A knee bounces under the table. It belongs to a young historian who is struggling not to pass out from nerves. Stiles’ chest rises and falls in rapid succession. Derek squeezes his hand gently.  
“Baby, we got this.”  
  
A voice booms from above.  
“Good evening. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to this special evening, to celebrate this incredible duo.”  
Derek winks at Stiles, who is a shade paler than before.  
“I love you,” Derek mouths.  
  
The man who had tapped Stiles on the shoulder earlier stands at the podium. The trophy beside his arm glimmers in the spotlight.  
“Ladies and gentlemen. As you may or may not know, The Cundill History Prize was founded in 2008 by Peter Cundill to recognize and promote literary and academic achievement in history. This prize is presented annually to an author or authors who published a non-fiction book in the previous year that is likely to have a profound literary, social, and academic impact in the field of history. The renumeration is $75,000 which is the Grand Prize. It’s the richest non-fiction historical literature prize in the world. But we’re not here for the money, otherwise we’d have never entered the world of academia, am I right?”  
  
The crowd breaks out into muffled laughter. Stiles looks over at Scott with a furrow in his brow.  
“Do I look okay?” he whispers.  
“Perfect, Stiles. Don’t worry. Just take a deep breath. You got this. You’ve earned this.”  
  
The microphone reverbs, bringing everyone’s attention back to the stage.  
“Oops, sorry. Anyway, as I was saying… This year’s recipients are two historians who collaborated on a book that has revolutionized the way we see Semitic and South Arabian language. It took the historical and linguistic world by storm and is now a must-read in the area of ancient language. With their _From Bathari to Dhofari,_ accepting the award also on behalf of Dr. Hamad Hassan who was unable to join us from Oman, I give you the winners of this year’s Cundill Prize, Dr. Stiles Stilinski and Dr. Hamad Hassan.”  
  
As roaring an applause as a room full of semi-drunk historians can give, Derek, Noah, Scott and Coach make up for the enthusiasm lacking by whistling and giving Stiles a standing ovation.  
Noah yells “That’s my son!”  
Derek kisses his cheek sweetly before Stiles takes the three steps to the stage. His cheeks rose over deeply as he’s handed the glass trophy.  
“Great work, Stiles.”  
The presenter shakes his hand warmly.  
“Thanks Dr. Stephenson. It’s an honor to receive this from you. On behalf of myself and Dr. Hassan.”  
  
Stiles faces the crowd, taking a moment to still his heart. All he has to do is look down at Derek and suddenly all the tension fades. (Derek won’t ever stop saying “I love you,” and he mouths it once more, for effect). He’s so proud of Stiles he could burst.  
  
“Ladies and gentlemen. Esteemed colleagues. Friends and family. I’d like to thank you all for being here. An especially warm thanks to the judges who graced myself and Dr. Hassan with this extremely prestigious honor.”  
Holding the trophy up, most of the room clap.    
“I’m so grateful to have had the opportunity to work with my dear friend Hamad, especially because this book almost didn’t happen. It was truly, in every sense, a labor of love.”  
  
Stiles takes a moment to swallow down the ball of emotion stuck in his throat. Derek blows him a kiss and Scott gives him a thumbs up. Noah and Coach look like the two proudest Dads on the planet, eyes moist.  
  
“Four years have passed since I got the grant for this book. Over six months of research in Oman, and then the better part of a year just trying to put it all on paper. None of that would have been possible without the understanding and love of my husband, Dr. Derek Hale."  
The brief pause allows the room to "aww" properly.   
"Without getting too deeply personal, Derek and I had just met when this opportunity arose. Perhaps other people would have been jealous, insecure. He not only supported my decision to proceed, but when I was reticent, he assured me that we would weather this challenge. Since then, we’ve moved twice, gotten married, and had two beautiful twin daughters. Without the help of my husband, my best friend Scott, and who I consider to be my two fathers, one of which being my real Dad, this book and this milestone in my career would have never happened. They’ll never know how grateful I am.”  
  
There’s more applause, and the front row is basically in tears when Stiles looks down on them, placing a hand over his heart.  
Coach pivots and hugs Scott, who wide-eyed, pats him on the back.  
  
Stiles continues, voice cracking. “This award is as much theirs as it is mine and Dr. Hassan’s. Without taking any more of your time, just one final gratitude. Derek and I have a cat named Pebbles, joined now by her furry brother Bam Bam. You may ask yourselves why am I mentioning a cat? Well, Pebbles is the reason Derek and I met. She had run away. We were neighbors, you see, and that chance meeting brought us together. I have a sinking feeling our little Pebbles started a butterfly effect. So thanks also to our little ginger fur baby."  
  
There's a moment for more accolades. Stiles collects the award in the crook of his arm.  
  
"Anyway, I’ve said too much already. Thank you again, ladies and gentlemen. I’m deeply honored. I wish you all a wonderful evening and to my colleagues, best of luck on your current endeavors. Good luck and... good night.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took forever to update. I've been "Sterek-stuck" and just didn't know how to finish this story. And it was bothering me terribly to leave it without a conclusion. So I hope this at least wraps things up a bit and in a happy way.  
> The Cundill Prize is a real thing, I got the info from Wikipedia. 
> 
> With this story, I'm saying goodbye to Sterek. Call it my Sterek swan song if you will. The pairing and I had a decent run but I am no longer inspired to write it. It's been a while coming and when I realized I'd "hit a wall" I decided to try my hand at something different. I'll always love the idea of Sterek, it's just not what I want to be writing anymore. While I'll still write Steter from time to time, I've been looking for other inspiration outside of Teen Wolf.  
> If you're one of my Sterek-exclusive readers, thanks for reading me when you did. If you trust in my writing enough I invite you to check out the other fandom stories I've been writing. If not, that's okay, too. Thank you for the support while it lasted and I hope I entertained you and brought a bit of levity to your days. 
> 
> So, dear Sterek readers... Good Luck and Good Night.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally looped around to writing this.


End file.
